


Covering Your Nights And Days

by liketogetlost



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketogetlost/pseuds/liketogetlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you... oh, you are. Yes, well.” Words come out daft when the slick flesh of her tongue comes into contact with his belly button. Teasing, snaking around, and his huge Time Lord brain shrinks down to the one pin pointed thought that Rose Tyler is about to go down on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covering Your Nights And Days

She's the toughest thing he's ever had to face down, his Rose. Stubborn, determined and always set to do things her way. 

Her way, which was currently leading her down. Lips pulling from his mouth, leaving him almost whimpering (because Time Lords don't whimper, they just don't) at the end of the magnificent game they play with their tongues. Still, gasps of breath exchange between them. Eyes lidded, peering up at him through lashes caked with heavy mascara, the kind he doesn't understand why she wears because she has such lovely eyelashes. Thick and dark enough they are, on their own. But yes, peering up at him in such an unsettling way. Unsettling because he's encountered many beings that want to taste his flesh, and eat him for dinner. Or lunch, or breakfast depending on the time of day. And he's seeing that same look they get right before they pounce in his girl's eyes right at this moment. It's unsettling, yes. 

But also, oh. Her tongue, surely one of the potential causes for regeneration someday, slipping out past her lips and most definitely tasting the air and the shared sweetness of their pheromones, even if she doesn't realize it. And her pupils, yes, they are definitely dilated and dark, too dark and he thinks she's keen to eat him raw right now. It makes him think of such obscene things that turn him hard, even harder than he's been, at the very first thought and squirm beneath her gaze, hands gripping and sliding up her torso as she continues her journey south.

Her thick locks are swept up in a messy ponytail, bits and pieces falling from her head and framing her face. In the dim light, they could be snakes and she could be Medusa, though Rose was everything but a monster. Except now, the image of her clad in only tight blue jeans sculpted over her strong thighs and a white bra that cups her modest chest perfectly, he should really write a letter to the brand's cooperation, with such hunger in her eyes that it makes his hearts race, one winning and one pushing ahead to catch up inside his chest.

Sweat pools on his bare chest and cools beneath her breath. As his own breathing deepens, his stomach clenches, muscles inside burning and his back arching as her mouth follows a familiar path she's traced before, down the middle of his ribcage and further still to his abs.

“Are you... oh, you are. Yes, well.” Words come out daft when the slick flesh of her tongue comes into contact with his belly button. Teasing, snaking around, and his huge Time Lord brain shrinks down to the one pin pointed thought that Rose Tyler is about to go down on him. It makes him moan and swell inside his trousers, which have been too tight since the moment she walked into the room and decided the only suitable seat in the place was his lap. Hands grip at nothing but air now, fisted tight at his sides and he fights to keep his cool, to keep himself collected.

“S'okay, Doctor.” And he could get a toothache from the liquid honey of her voice, thick with power and knowing. “Relax.” She grins at him, or bares her teeth, either one and he does the opposite, he tenses, waiting.

Her fingers, nimble and fantastically good at this very task among other things, busy themselves at his fly as she pulls down the zip and flicks open the button with one hand. She pulls his trousers down just enough, as he shifts in the chair and wonders for a moment if she's comfortable kneeling on the floor like that. The chivalrous thought is forgotten, however, when the duel torture of the cool air hitting him, exposed, and the sweet heated air of her mouth touches him at once. His eyes roll back behind his closed lids and he swears at the stars he sees, something anyone could confirm he rarely does except in extreme cases.

Like when he's caught between a rock and a hard place. Or when he's caught between an armchair and Rose Tyler.

And he's not one to beg, as he doesn't look very manly on his knees figuratively or not. He's not one to give up control so easily, if ever, and even if he does it's usually only a trick of light, a mind game to fool the other person into thinking they're in the driver's seat when he's still piloting. And he's had many a time with Rose Tyler, her wrists caught in his grip, or her stomach pressed into the mattress, where she was like pure putty in his hands just molding herself to his touch for more of anything he had to offer. Times she sweat and begged and sobbed against him for more of his mouth or fingers or cock, and sometimes even then he'd pull her further along until it was just a series of noises that finally persuaded him to take pity and lick or suck or thrust.

But just like his thumbs pressing into and shaping her into pleading, is her mouth near his cock that turns the tables and makes the dams burst inside and pushes him to let go, to sit in the passenger's side and let Rose take the wheel and steer him right into a never ending road of up and down, back and forth, give and take and take again. Which is where he is now, with her hovering atop him and breathing across him like she doesn't know it makes it worse, makes his nerves jump and his pores weep.

“Need something?” And she's so close to him her lips just barely brush the tip of him when she speaks. It's not like she doesn't want it, still has that hunger set in her glare like some kind of animal, but she's playing with him, turning it into a hunting game where he's the prey that just wants to be devoured.

Her hands find his hips, slender beneath her touch and stretching with his movements, and tease the skin there sending tingles down where he needs them the least, or the most, he can't decide.

“ _Rose_...” And even he hadn't anticipated that deep husk of his voice, need dripping off the tip of his tongue like ice cream from a cone on a hot day. He looks down through his eyes, close to slits now, and sees her react to his voice. Sees that flash of power in her eyes that he knows so well, knows too well, has his whole life and it's clear now that if she asked him to fly her to the beginning of time and tear the whole thing apart he would, for her mouth and for her alone.

And it's this transfer of power that gets him just that, her mouth, unbelievably hot and wet and perfect around him, almost all of him, and his breath comes out on the back of a deep groan, and he doesn't know whether to bite his lip or let his mouth hang open. His hands grip the arms of the chair and probably leaves nail marks in the leather as he arches into her, looks down and watches her take him over and over, slowly with her lips wrapping around him, the sight beautiful and crude and just too sexy as fuck that it somehow makes him even harder against her tongue. 

Her hair's come loose, hitting her shoulders and his lower stomach as she swallows around him and he takes the tempting locks in one hand and _grips_ , barely pulling but bringing up a moan that vibrates around him and makes him pulse inside her mouth. He does it again just because, harder this time, and she just works him faster, deeper. He decides he can't watch anymore, because feeling is enough and too much and seeing how she's letting him fuck her mouth turns his stomach in a delicious way and makes him want to do things he really shouldn't even think about.

Everything's tightening, muscles and toes and bones and he's sliding in his own sweat down the slick leather of the chair. And he suddenly thinks of that old Earth song, and laughs out loud and manically, because she is as hungry as the wolf and he thinks she's making him mad with just a simple muscle and some saliva but it's so much more, that he knows. Her fingers grip his waist tighter, thumbs pushing and bruising and marking him for later, for slow surveying of her work with hands and lips and smiling teeth and his bottom is off the chair now. He tries to keep from thrusting into her but it's the hardest thing he thinks he's ever done, thinks of pulling her up and making her straddle him properly so he can rut and grind and _fuck_ all he likes but this, and the end game, is too damn sweet so he holds back.

And then, oh good gods, her nails scrape across the patch of hair on his stomach and her throat works like it does and it's the end for him, he might as well be in the fires of his change because he's burning and falling and he's still gripping her hair tight in his hand as he gives it all over. The power, his life, his time and his sanity all for this fleeting utopia, this euphoria of a moment that can't just be from a blow job from Rose Tyler but is, somehow. His body shakes and falls back into the chair while he's still inside her mouth, and he only opens his eyes, mouth agape for air that doesn't come, when she pulls away from him and he's left soft in the cold against his thigh.

And impossible, but he feels the slightest twinge and tickle in his belly at the sight of her tongue snaking across her bottom lip and tasting away the last trace of his euphoric moment.

He laughs, because what else can he do, deep and rumbling in his chest and less manic than before but almost totally purely happy in it's lightness. His head hits the back of the chair and he shuts his eyes and remembers to breath as she climbs him slowly like a tree. 

His voice is layered with gravel and thick with sex that he tries to clear away. “I don't know if you're expecting much after that, Rose.” And it would be her own fault, really.

Tongue lapping at the sweat in the hollow of his throat, she settles herself in his lap and his superior Time Lord hearing picks up the sound of her bra clasp snapping open. He opens one eye and peeks, swallows at the sight of her all bare and soft to touch and her lips, so swollen and shining and he really is hopeless, isn't he.

“If you don't take care of me, I'm sure I could manage on my own.” She breathes, hands naughty and exploring across her chest, down her stomach and no, that just won't do. He grabs her wrists, pins them behind her waist and leans in to suck at her neck like some kind of vampire in a questionable film.

“Better with two, yeah?” He growls against her skin and she sighs, nodding, and he can feel her self satisfied smile in the air somehow.

He's got her in his grasp but she still holds all the power, and really, doesn't she always then.

“You'll be the death of me.” He's hard already just using one hand to undo her unyielding jeans zip and her chuckle hits him between the ribs and shoots daggers into each of his still pounding hearts.

“Already have been.” 

He silences her with his mouth and a pop of a metal button through denim.


End file.
